


Honu

by BarracudaHeart



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Callbacks to Island Adventure, Coping, Drabble, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Song lyrics inserted, Surfing, self love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9807827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarracudaHeart/pseuds/BarracudaHeart
Summary: Lars' hobby is something he can't and won't share with anyone else. He's fine with that.





	

Lars had finally surmised that the way his school was teaching math to him was boring, and ultimately useless. He’d been able to measure out the proper dimensions for a surfboard template that suited his height and weight with ease, but give him a scantron sheet and math problems and he wouldn’t score above a C.

 

Since he was just getting back into it, he wanted this board to be suitable enough for him to keep balanced on, and not too long. It was tempting to make a longboard and show off on it, but Lars had to remind himself that this wasn’t going to be for anyone else. This was going to just be for  _ him _ .

 

His dad had been curious about him spending so much time in the garage for the last couple of days, and had come in on him gluing down the stringer, “Making your own board?”

 

Lars bit his lip in concentration as he carefully worked, grabbing the clamps to set on the stringer so it could stay firm while it dried, “Mmmhm,” he nodded, not even feeling irritated.

 

“Good. Good to see you getting back into it,” Dante pat his boy’s shoulder, glad he was finally applying himself, “Know what shape you want the nose and tail to be?”

 

“Yeah,” he pointed at his template, “Gonna try to get a swallow tail without making the fins too thin or uneven.”

 

“Where did you get the balsawood?”

 

“It’s just foam block from the hardware store,” Lars rolled his eyes, “Their balsawood was way too overpriced,” he snorted.

 

“Fair enough,” Dante nodded, “Your grandfather would probably throw a fit, but he doesn’t have to know about what material you’re using,” he laughed.

 

“Grandpa’s a bigger surf nut than the king surf nuts,” Lars wrinkled his nose, “Though mad respect to him, he used to ride those huge fucking longboards.”

 

“He probably still does if he’s not listening to doctor’s orders,” Dante mused with a soft chuckle, “Maybe you can try to make an Alaia board next.”

 

“Those things will kill me, dad!”, Lars sounded incredulous, “And freakishly long too! I wouldn’t know how to get it to the beach strapped to the car without it whacking some poor sucker’s head off.”

 

“So I guess my next suggestion of the Olo board is nixed too,” Dante teased, “With how much of a king you are, you could probably get away with riding one of those.”

 

Lars snorted, and blocked out generic shapes on the bulkier foam with his pencil to shave away once the stringer was dry. While his father was still watching him, he decided to ask, “Why didn’t you ever surf?”

 

“I didn’t live on the islands long enough to get into it. Your grandparents opted to move to the mainland away from the ocean when I was about six years old. Your granddad only decided to go back when I was in college. Besides, I don’t have the best sense of balance,” Dante admitted to his own clumsiness.

 

“Ah. That bites,” Lars ‘tsk’ed his tongue, “Woulda been a riot to see you in swim shorts catching waves.”

 

“In front of your friends?”, Dante teased, earning him a look of teenage annoyance from Lars, and waved his hand, “I’ll leave you to your work. Please don’t saw your arm off alright?”

 

“No promises,” Lars huffed under his breath, focusing back on his project.

 

So maybe this was something he couldn’t share with anyone else.

 

He was fine with that for once.

* * *

  
  


Perhaps it had been too much to expect that the conditions for surfing would be as optimal as his experience creating his board had been. 

 

For the last three days, Lars had waited for the waves to get at least a little interesting, but no luck. The weather was too clear, and the water was too still. He’d spent over two hours sitting on his board waiting for the chance to stand up and ride, but even as the tide came in, it was too boring.

 

His dad had suggested using a paddle, but it made very little difference. A paddle would only work if the waters were at least a little active, but since he was dealing with a beach that was the equivalent of a swimming pool, it was a doomed enterprise.

 

He’d driven around the area to find a better spot, but the only place with active waves was also home to a very large and very dangerous bed of sharp rocks that would inevitably break his board and possibly his pelvis.

 

He googled for the nearest surf spots on his phone and they were all on private beaches or too far away to drive without planning a trip.

 

He’d given up when he visited the beach nearest to home again, groaning as he lay on the surfboard in the water, the surface flatter than his own figure.

* * *

 

“Look, this isn't because of one of your dumb friendship pacts, but I need a favor-”, Lars groaned as he rubbed his forehead, standing in Steven's doorway.

 

Steven immediately puckered his lips with an eager smile, “Goooo on.”

 

“Ugh, just-,” the teen shook his head, “Use your magic belly button gem and make waves in the ocean for me ok? Surfing conditions out here are the pits.”

 

Steven clapped his hands together to emphasise his words, “ _ So _ . The only issue with that is...I have no idea how to control water.  _ But _ -” he continued before Lars could groan, “I know someone who does,  _ but _  she currently lives at the barn and she doesn't like anybody here.”

 

“Great,” Lars groaned, running a hand through his hair, “I'm stuck with the most boring waves in the world. Beach City is a dud.”

 

Steven rubbed his chin in thought, a gleam of brilliance in his eyes, “What if you didn't have to surf  _ here _ ?”

 

“Any good places are too far to drive.”

 

“Or  _ are _ they?”

 

“Steven do you actually have any ideas or are you just making questions for everything I say?”

 

“ _ Do _ I??”

 

Lars groaned. 

* * *

 

“Ok so do you want to practice the warp whistle a couple more times before I go back?”

 

“No, just scram already,” Lars waved him off dismissively as he shuffled through his backpack and made sure he had everything he needed, snacks, a blanket, a lighter, pocket knife, phone etc. 

Ever since that last crazy trip he'd had on this island, he didn't want to risk anything. He had access to the warp pad and nobody, monster or man, was going to get him stranded here. 

 

Steven had to warn him though, stay away from the watermelons (there were watermelons?) Lars wasn't going to even question that (even if watermelon was actually his favorite fruit). He brought plenty of snacks to survive. If he got desperate, he could just use the warp whistle to get into Steven's house and raid their fridge.

 

It wasn't like he was going full castaway here.  Not even close. He just wanted time alone to surf. Time to find the joy in something he'd abandoned long ago and was raring up to try again.

 

When Steven had left, Lars didn't hesitate to make a run for the water, board in tow, glad to see the waters were more active than the ones in Beach City.  

 

For a little bit, it was shaky to keep his balance on the board, but at the same time, it was like bike riding, he couldn't really forget it. In what felt like no time at all he was gliding down the face of the waves as they curved and curled, and he narrowly missed getting caught under them, feeling the splashes of water gracing along his legs.

 

The finished paint on the surfboard glistened in the sunlight and Lars couldn't help but look down and feel proud of his handiwork, having worked for days on the purple and green design. 

 

It was his own board. This was all his.

 

While scaling along a steeper wave, Lars craned his head forward, and felt his board jet faster as it was encouraged by the splash of the wave meeting the rest of the water.

 

It felt amazing.

* * *

  
  


While taking a break to dry off, and not get too waterlogged, Lars decided to walk a little, securing his board on the dry sand, and slipping his jacket on over his wetsuit, he took his backpack with him as he hiked back up towards the grassier parts of the island.

 

He’d pulled a pack of his favorite dried seaweed snack out of his backpack, munching on it as he walked, kind of glad to be alone here. Steven tended to attract a lot of weird things on this whenever they were together, and as much as he liked Sadie...this place didn’t really bring the greatest of memories regarding her.

 

Part of him was still sort of mad, that she thought she could go and try to fix him. But another part of him just said “It’s your fault you’re the way you are anyway.”

 

He honestly tried to be better. He really did. But he never really could catch himself from his indiscretions unless someone else pointed them out. How was he supposed to know he was screwing up if nobody said anything??

 

And being a teenager was hard. Lars was kind of embarrassed that so many people thought he was over 18. He wasn’t even 17 yet, he just was tall for his age. Maybe he tried so hard to seem older than he was, that now he couldn’t ever make any mistakes, because everyone treated him like a grown adult. 

 

Lars stopped in place, and rubbed his forehead in slight frustration. He’d taken this walk to relax and all it was doing was bringing back the self deprecative junk he hated. 

 

He’d approached the steep incline where he’d fallen into the mud, and Sadie had saved him...well, after she pushed him there to begin with. 

 

Sighing, he carefully eased down the incline, sidestepping until he reached the bottom, and placed his hand on the ground. The mud was dry, probably from a lack of rain, and the area seemed calm.

 

Lars was surprised he wasn’t feeling too anxious or unsettled standing down here, in the spot where he nearly died. Maybe because he was all alone, and in this situation, nobody was yelling at him, or making him feel like he was the most hated person on the planet.

 

He walked across the muddy pit, took a moment to take in his surroundings, then slowly walked back, and up the incline.

 

That wasn’t too bad.

 

He walked a little longer until he reached the cliffside where he and Sadie had sat, where he had his first breakdown. 

 

Sighing, he slowly sat down, and looked out over the ocean.

 

“Do you ever get lonely. Even when you’re around people?”

 

He asked that question to her. And now he asked it to himself.

 

“I do.” he would answer.

 

He craved the attention, the approval, the socialization. But as soon as he had it, even just a touch, it would drag him into the feeling of deep untapped sadness and loneliness. The reminder that this was only temporary and he wasn’t truly ever going to fit in with anyone.

 

Somehow, being here by himself felt ok. He felt better here. Without being distracted by the background noise of others, he was able to hear the voice inside him that was always telling him he sucked, and he now had the chance to tell it, “No I don’t.”

 

He’d brought his mom’s old cassette player and one of the mix tapes she’d made back in her younger years. He’d been borrowing it recently ever since his iPod broke, and even if the music selections were old hat, he’d grown up with them enough to tolerate them. They weren’t heavy metal, but they were alright.

 

Slipping his headphones over his ears, Lars was content to listen to the music as he closed his eyes, and without even realizing it, had begun to sing along.

 

_ “I'm going where the sun keeps shining _

_ Through the pouring rain _

_ Going where the weather suits my clothes _

_ Banking off of the northeast winds _

_ Sailing on a summer breeze _

_ And skipping over the ocean like a stone” _

* * *

 

Lars had gotten a handful of hours in of surfing after he went back down to the water, only stopping when the sky blended into a purple and orange sea, mirroring the water he’d been gracing with his board.

 

He didn’t really want to go home now. For once, now that he wasn’t in danger of being stranded or getting killed, he didn’t mind staying. 

 

If Steven got worried about him, he could just warp over and Lars could tell him to bugger off. 

 

It wouldn’t kill him to stay the night.

 

He was glad he brought a lighter, no need to rub sticks until he got splinters, or smacking rocks together with the possible chance of his own sleeve catching fire. Once he’d gotten a fire going to keep warm, he’d pulled a baggie of marshmallows out of his backpack. Sadie liked to tease him about his sweet tooth, and his ‘emergency marshmallow pack’ but she’d be sorry if she went marshmallow-less in the winter time with her hot chocolate. And they made for good campfire snacks.

 

He wasn’t going to even bother fishing. He wasn’t good at catching his own meal, just at cooking it. That was fine. He was squeamish about killing animals anyway.

 

He didn’t actually know when he had fallen asleep, and he didn’t exactly care, since he’d drifted into a peaceful dreamless state.

* * *

 

When he woke up, the self loathing had punched him in the gut hard enough to make him dizzy, and he’d groaned at feeling the massive change between how he felt now, and what he’d felt the day before.

 

He’d done so good the other day, handling his negative emotions in a way that helped him, but he was already getting off to a rough start.

 

Maybe the fact he’d have to eventually go home, and fall back into his habits again had struck him as a wake up call.

 

Before he could curse himself, he heard the pattering and churning of rain, the sky suddenly having turned gray and masking what had probably been a lovely sunrise.

 

“God damnit,” Lars hissed, grabbing his backpack, and stormed out to go grab his board so he could escape this sudden storm.

 

As he saw the ocean though, he slowed his steps, seeing how tall and active the waves had become.

 

Even with the rain, they looked absolutely perfect.

 

He felt bad about himself now, he needed to go home after doing something that made him feel good.

 

_ You’re the only person who likes this. You’ll always be alone. _

 

He left his stuff in his dry shelter as he ran out to the water with his board, focusing on keeping his balance as he sailed along the waves, still standing firm as rainwater harshly splashed on his face, the storm getting worse.

 

Even as his body worked with his board and the waves, Lars’ brain simply couldn’t. 

 

_ When you go back home, you’re going to go back to your ugly old self. You don’t have the self awareness to know when you’re fucking up, and you do it  _ _ all _ _ the time. _

 

_ Everyone else hates you and can’t stand you. Every mistake you make is because you’re a bad person. You’ll never grow. _

  
  


Lars hadn’t noticed the following wave behind him once he’d sailed off the last one.

 

_ You should just die. _

 

The water had swallowed up the boy before he even had time to say “No.”

* * *

 

  
  


“I don’t want to die.”

 

The ocean water would quickly swallow any tears he’d created, dark and cold. He’d been pulled down far enough while he was still distracted with his sadness, and he was struggling to pull himself up to the surface, the churning water pulling him under every time.

 

His foot had caught on something, perhaps a reef. But every time he tried to swim up, he felt searing pain that tugged him back.

 

He opened his mouth to gasp, only for water to rush into it, and his screams were swallowed by the sea.

 

Just before his consciousness could become as dark as the clouds, something had freed his ankle from a large stalk of coral that floated past him, and he could feel himself being pushed up to the surface by a gentle but firm press against his stomach.

 

He’d been too busy gasping for air and vomiting up seawater to notice right away that he’d been laying on top of a giant shell, getting surrounded by several small figures.

 

When he finally managed to catch his breath, he sat up, and looked at what had rescued him.

 

A bunch of watermelons shaped like Steven were smiling at him.  _ Smiling. _

 

“What the fuck.”

 

Looking down, he caught his breath, seeing the elegant pebbly fins of what was probably one of the biggest sea turtles he’d ever seen. 

 

“...Is this your turtle?”, he almost asked without hesitation, and the melons just nodded, still smiling and being super weird.

 

“...You guys just saved me,” Lars spoke under his breath flatly, still not fully receptive of everything just happened.

 

The rain had stopped, and the only droplets falling were the ones from his hair. Slowly sitting up to full height, running a hand across his face, Lars took in a deep breath.

 

He didn’t even know how these goddamn watermelons were alive, why they looked like Steven, how they had trained a sea turtle, or how they even knew he was drowning, but he almost didn’t want to question it. Steven wasn’t even here, and Lars still somehow got roped into that kid’s weirdness.

 

Maybe something of this was all a little comforting. He’d just nearly drowned with the mindset that everyone would rather want him dead, and some people...or things that he hardly even knew had just rescued him. 

 

“...Thanks,” he spoke tiredly to the watermelons, who helped him off the turtle once it reached the shore. Another watermelon dragged over his board. The storm had chipped off the fin on its bottom, but nothing unfixable. Lars was just surprised it hadn’t smashed to bits.

 

He felt one of the watermelons touch his leg, looking up at him, almost looking concerned at his face.

 

“...I’ll be ok,” he assured it, “...Thank you.”

 

He saw the sun breaking through the clouds, and as the sunrise slowly kissed the surface of the water, he watched the beautiful sea turtle swim away, the watermelons waving to it.

 

The water calmed again as Lars settled on the beach with exhaustion, and not even minding as the watermelons settled beside him.

 

He was alive. And he felt like he deserved it for once. He would be able to go home, and tell his friends, and tell his family about this trip he devoted to his special hobby, and even if they didn’t understand it, they would get to know it made him  _ happy _ .

 

“I’m alive,” he spoke under his breath.

 

He gave a smile.

 

“I’m alive.”

* * *

  
  


When Steven woke a few hours later, 6:30 AM had just reached the timezone in Beach City. He’d gotten downstairs and quickly noticed Lars laying on the couch, using a towel as a blanket as he slept quietly, smiling contently.

 

The rose pink sky as the sun ascended tinted his surfboard a beautiful sort of glow as it rest against the front door.

  
It was all his own, and he was happy with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> Song Lyrics come from 'Everybody's Talkin' by Fred Neil and Harry Nilsson  
> Alaia and Olo boards are both types of longboards that originated from Hawaii, the former being notoriously difficult to ride, and the latter having been used in the past by Hawaiian royalty due to their size.  
> Honu- Hawaiian term for sea turtle


End file.
